


Among the Stars

by Nonplayer_Character



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: ... in case I decide to revisit any of them later, F/M, M/M, Now a one-shot collection!, and actually you know write a story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:41:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22287313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonplayer_Character/pseuds/Nonplayer_Character
Summary: Chapter 3It’s not real, really, even if they haven’t figured it out yet, one day Sypha and Alucard will look at him truly and properly and find him wanting. And it’ll be the worst day of his life, and if Trevor had a single fucking brain cell left in him, he’d leave now and avoid the whole thing.Unfortunately, or maybe not, as Alucard has been quick to point out since the beginning, there’s nothing but hot air between Trevor’s ears.
Relationships: Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya & Trevor Belmont & Sypha Belnades, Alucard | Adrian Tepes | Arikado Genya/Trevor Belmont/Sypha Belnades
Comments: 25
Kudos: 184





	1. Night in the Woods

* * *

Sypha dreams only on rare occasions. 

Speaker dreams provide visions of things meant to be heeded, and for all her prowess in the elemental magics, foresight isn’t really Sypha’s forte. 

It’s never bothered her, then, that her sleep, so dissimilar to who she is, is often full to bursting with absolutely nothing. 

Tonight, though, and for the past month, she wakes from a dream about being stone, and it is not things to come, not a premonition, not anything, just a simple nightmare, but it turns the blood in her veins icy every time.

Stone is stationary and it can’t be mended the way flesh can and Sypha imagines herself as that for only a moment before she gets up from her place near the fire, between Alucard and Trevor, who are bundled up and stealing warmth from one another though they’ll make half-hearted attempts to deny any sort of affection in the daylight, and goes out into the woods. Searching for something. Signs of life, maybe. 

The records of her people are passed orally and as a result, preserved on the good faith that the events will be spoken truthfully by those trusted to recount them. As Sypha picks her way toward a stream she knows to be nearby, she wonders if she can’t convince her grandfather to omit the time she spent frozen and stagnant and inanimate, lost to everyone but the empty, dark catacombs. If she can erase it from her peoples’ history, perhaps she can erase it from her own as well. Can erase the cold up her spine that hasn’t really gone away since Trevor found her that day.

Why does this frighten her? When so little of what she has faced in her life, batshit insane and horrifying as it has been, has given her even the smallest of pause for concern, why does the idea of not being able to die and not being able to move haunt her even months later, even in what should be empty dreams?

“You okay?” Sypha doesn’t need to turn to know Trevor is behind her. She suspects he has been for at least a minute. She wonders if Alucard is around, too, but he is quieter than Trevor, less prone to getting caught. Light footed and not as invasive about space as Trevor.

“Fine,” Sypha lies. She does not face him for a moment, trying to reclaim some sense of composure she’s not often without; when she turns around her expression dares Trevor to call her bluff. He doesn’t, but -   
  


“I don’t believe you,” says Alucard, instead. So he is around. He appears out of the shadows just behind Trevor, soft in appearance and entrance. His hair is down and lifting in the breeze.  


”Jesus-“ Trevor hisses, started by the other man. Alucard offers him a tight-lipped smile.

”Not quite.”

Sypha finds herself grinning despite the circumstance - at them, whom she loves and is glad to be with. Their antics and their affection warm her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t write full stories but I’ll still share snippets when I write them.
> 
> I like the idea of Sypha (who by virtue of not suffering ... as much tragedy, seems the most well-adjusted) suffering silently until Trevor and Alucard finally recognize something is up.


	2. The End of the World

The world isn’t ending when they come back, but it’s still Trevor’s excuse - after he comes barreling through the front entrance, finds the kitchens, finds the mead, finds a seat amongst the dusty ones all set proper around the dinning table, silk coverings dull with disuse. 

Sypha hugs him first, at least.

“What?” Says Alucard, following after, a little bewildered. Sypha hooks her arm in his as they walk and she’s so much warmer than anything he’s touched of late. The books in the Belmont Library are cold and the castle is full of bitter corridors. 

When they catch up to Trevor, he’s well into his cup. Alucard knocks his muddy boots off the table surface, where he has propped up his legs, crossed and casual like its his home; like they haven’t been gone for the better part of a season.

Part of Alucard wants to sit as close as he can, but there’s a more logical voice in his mind that insists on distance as a healthy coping mechanism for when they leave again, bounding off to do god knows what in the world and with one another. 

And Alucard will sit in his lonely castle, far away from everything and everyone, waiting for the sun to rise.

Alucard sits in the furthest chair from Trevor.

Sypha, looking displeased with the intention of the arrangement - she sees through him - takes the seat right beside him anyway.

“We were thinking,” says Trevor, “me and Sypha,”

“I imagine mostly Sypha,” says Alucard. Beside him, Sypha grins, and that makes him grin, despite himself.

“You’ll be surprised to hear that this was a nearly 100% Trevor Belmont original thought,” she whispers to him, loud enough to carry. 

“You’re correct, I am surprised. His head doesn’t appear to have imploded from the effort,” Alucard covers his mouth as if the say this discreetly to Sypha, but he does not lower his voice, and for emphasis he side-eyes Trevor conspiratorially while speaking. 

“I’m still here,” Trevor mutters into his mug.

“I’d noticed.”

“You’re making me regret that I’m about to get pretty sincere with you,” Trevor replies. 

Alucard spreads his hands before him in an open invitation to continue.

“Then by all means.” 

“Well, when we left you, it seemed like a pretty good idea. You seemed to want space, and you didn’t seem to want to leave. So, you know, what else was there to do, really?”

“In retrospect,” says Sypha, sounding troubled, “a lot.”

“But the other night I was lying in this ditch-“

“-He drunkenly fell into it.”

“-And these ants were just biting the hell out of me, and I was looking up at sky thinking about how it hurt, but I’d had worse, and after all, the world wasn’t ending just because some ants were chewing up my ass. And then I got to thinking about how the world almost ended and fuck, what if that happened again?”

“I’m assuming you’re getting to a point, Belmont?” Says Alucard, though his windpipe feels a bit tight because Trevor’s never sounded very sincere about much in the past and surely that means something. Otherwise why start now, why come here to do it?

“If the world was ending, Alucard, I’d hate to be away from you for it.”

“And I missed you,” says Sypha. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two things:  
> 1\. I have not watched Season 3 yet and I am scared to.  
> 2\. This may have been inspired by my laying on the couch late one evening listening to: https://youtu.be/7viR3P6jeRQ which has some very nice Trephacard vibes I feel.


	3. Alone Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor gets dog-piled.

Trevor’s been tip-toeing around Alucard and Sypha since arriving at the Belmont hold for the first time all those months ago. Something had changed around then; something had grown inside him. Given the way they bicker and how largely everything remains the same between them, Trevor’s cognizant that this weird feeling in his gut, the need and the want of it all, is probably just him.

Just his luck to get attached. There’s not a soul on the whole damn planet that’d want to hitch their wagon to someone with so much fucking baggage. Let alone two. It seems stupid to want.

It’s a wonder they haven’t booted him; it’s a wonder he himself hasn’t pissed off to other pastures - he always assumed that’s how it’d go after Dracula, after the end of the end of the world: the last of the Belmont line, tittering back into the shadows to resume his drunk escapades, content that if the demons of the night didn’t eventually do him in, the alcohol probably would. And what of his allies? Who the fuck knows.

He never would have guessed he’d end up sticking around Dracula’s castle, meandering dumbly behind a speaker genius and a half-vampire scholar, totally out of place, half heartedly hoping they’d give him a reason to leave, more heartedly praying to a god he’s on real shit terms with that they don’t.

It’s funny how every moment they’re not flat out telling him to fuck off feels like an invitation to stay a little longer.

“Found him,” Sypha calls, presumably to Alucard, as she slips into the room Trevor snuck away to hours ago. And so she has.

She plops down beside him on the rug he’s made his home. He’s laying on his stomach, facing the hearth, arms folded under his chin for support as he stares into the flames. He doesn’t know what this room’s purpose is, but it’s open and warm so what does it matter. Sypha takes advantage of his position to lie across Trevor’s back, the lines of her abdomen crossing his spine.

“Hrng,” Trevor grunts when her weight falls on him, but Sypha doesn’t seem to mind. He can’t see, but he does hear the turning of pages, so she must have opened a book to begin reading.

It’s a casual intimacy he’s only recently become familiar with. He’s not sure how it happened, why he let it. Other than it’s nice - to feel the weight of a presence. And that it’s the thing he’s been craving - the idea that someone could want him, no conditions, no concerns, just want to be around him. It’s not real, really, even if they haven’t figured it out yet, one day Sypha and Alucard will look at him truly and properly and find him wanting. And it’ll be the worst day of his life, and if Trevor had a single fucking brain cell left in him, he’d leave now and avoid the whole thing.

Unfortunately, or maybe not, as Alucard has been quick to point out since the beginning, there’s nothing but hot air between Trevor’s ears.

Because he moves so quietly, and Trevor’s eyes have been closed for most of the last ten minutes since Sypha arrived, Trevor does not recognize that Alucard has joined them until he hears the soft plop of a stack of books being sat down and then the slightly cool pressure where the small of Alucard’s back connects with Trevor’s thigh.

When Trevor peeks over his shoulder he can see that Alucard is leaning into Sypha, reading something she has pointed out in the book she is flipping through. His hair falls like a curtain over his features and Trevor can’t see his face, but he’s relaxed, no hesitancy about putting his weight on Trevor and Sypha and it’s not a guess to presume it’s a calm expression.

Trevor thinks he should say something about being made the foundation of this dogpile they’ve become, but he’s tired, and warm, and for a moment blissfully free of thoughts.

And if he talks, he’s bound to piss one or both of them off, so for a moment, just a moment, he revels in the fantasy.

It’s the three of them alone together at the end of this day and all the days that might follow. What a concept. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said it on tumblr and I’ll say it here, I wanted something soft and I couldn’t find the brand that I wanted so I wrote it haha


	4. Field Aid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trevor’s learning to let people in.

Trevor’s watching flames dance in the fire pit like women in flowing silks, swaying this way and then that, predictable but mystifying. Trevor’s thinking about Sypha and Alucard who are, even now, watching him in concern from across the way. His eyes flicker to them, catch Sypha’s, and then return to the fire. 

“Cut it out,” he mutters. Clutching his bandaged arm to his bleeding chest. He’s not self-conscious, specifically,but he hates the attention. Hates the way they look at him, their mouths a hair’s bredth from letting slip the questions so clearly on their tongues. 

“I wish that you would let me clean them,” says Alucard, annoyed. “I’ve told you before, cleaning a wound is the difference between an arm today and none tomorrow.” 

“It’ll be fine,” says Trevor, “it’s not like this is the first time I’ve been shredded by monster claws.”

“Nor the last, I’m sure,” says Alucard, annoyance steadfast, “but that’s not a very good reason to refuse help.”

“Especially because you have us now,” Sypha interjects, “we have each other.” 

Trevor doesn’t look up because he doesn’t want to see the sincerity in either of them. He’s not interested in the soft places within their hearts they’ve allowed him access to.

Trevor wouldn’t choose himself, and he’s never really trusted anyone who said they would. 

It’s a hard life and it’s impossible to believe anyone would stumble into his asking for so little and giving so much. What has Trevor ever really done to deserve their care? Help kill Alucard’s father; take Sypha from her people. No one who gets wrapped up with Trevor Belmont ever comes out the other side on top.

Alucard sighs and before Trevor can place why, the other man is beside him, extracting his arm from where he is cradling it, protective. It’s not as painful as Trevor anticipates when Alucard pulls it away.

“Fuck off, Alucard,” Trevor says, but even with the earnest effort he’s making, he couldn’t break Alucard’s grip if he wanted. Sometimes he forgets how dangerous the man is. He makes himself so non threatening, hoping the world will believe him. 

Sypha’s on his other side a moment later with a little kit of herbs and dried plants Alucard insists they keep with them when they travel. 

“Classy,” says Alucard.

“You don’t have to want help, Trevor,” says Sypha, she’s being uncharacteristically gentle with him and perhaps it is because he’d nearly been maimed earlier, but Trevor feels uncomfortably comfortable between them. Embarrassed and ashamed to want them. “But you are going to grin and bear it.”

“I don’t know why you bother,” Trevor says, and it’s gruffly said but comes out more as an admission than anything. Sypha and Alucard exchange a glance and Alucard responds:

“Do you honestly believe, after all this time together, that we wouldn’t care for your well being?”

With so pointed a statement and so little room to deny, Trevor almost feels stupid for admitting that’s exactly what he believes.

“You might be the dumbest man alive,” Sypha laughs. 

“It’s hard to imagine there’s anyone that doesn’t want you dead when everyone you’ve met since you were eight has,” Trevor says. “Excuse me for using a lifetime of experience to form an assumption.”

“I just thought you knew us better than that,” Sypha tells him, her laughter lost in the seriousness of Trevor’s response. She and Alucard are rubbing ointments into his cuts and it hurts like hell, but their hands are gentle.

“He does,” says Alucard, he catches Trevor’s attention and hold’s his eye contact all the while, “he’s just afraid to feel as if he belongs anywhere.” 

“I don’t,” says Trevor, “that’s exactly what not having a home means.”

“Of course you do,” Alucard responds, as if speaking to a particularly confused child, “you belong right here, between us. And have for some time.” 

Sypha hums in agreement, her fingers light on his injuries. Their words heavy in his mind. The flames flicker and sputter and swirl.

“Let us care about you,” Sypha says, “it’s time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just like writing dialog :’) I don’t know what to tell you. 
> 
> Timeline? I don’t know her.


	5. Three’s Company

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sypha flexes her crafting skills.

Sypha makes a doll to match the ones in the kitchen. As with many things about Adrian and herself, her craftsmanship does not compare to his own. The stuffing pokes out through stitches too far apart to contain it well and the eyes, yellow buttons, are loose, and her fingers are pin pricked as trophies of her failure with needles, but it is not so much the execution she thinks matters as the effort. Adrian may disagree but then, this is her work not his, so he will have to keep it to himself if he does. 

There are three now because they are three - a group incomplete otherwise; and she supposes they look sort of cute, sitting up on their shelf.  


She, Trevor, and Adrian also look cute together. She does not need to suppose this, but she does like the thought. After such a long journey back to each other, it feels nice to say they are anything, even something as inconsequential as cute. 

She had thought, there for weeks upon she and Trevor’s return, that Adrian would never forgive them. He had been enraged and in sorrow. Though it had been her inclination to leave, Trevor’s to follow, Adrian’s to stay, perhaps Adrian had not thought that they would actually want to until they had. Perhaps she had not thought enough about where he was, mentally, when she made her choice.  


Why had none of them asked the other to join them? 

Sypha does not consider herself foolish nor inconsiderate but fighting monsters had been as close to free as she has ever felt, and so maybe she is forced to acknowledge a string of selfishness she otherwise wouldn’t have known about. 

She is trying to rectify her short comings in small ways now, as atonement for what she aided in messing up the first time. Small things of significance. She hopes Adrian looks at the dolls and sees the same significance in them that she does. 

Trevor thinks they’re funny, and Adrian finds them embarrassing, but Sypha thinks more of them. They were once an indication of Adrian’s loneliness, and now they will be an indication of their relationship. And perhaps they are a little funny and a little embarrassing, but so are the people whose images they reflect.

“Sypha? What are you doing up?” Adrian enters the kitchen, disheveled but awake. His sleeping habits do not often line up with her’s and Trevor’s and as a result he often wakes up in the middle of the night, comes back just before dawn, and sleeps until noon as she and Trevor go about going about. 

She wonders if he is here as part of his usual routine or if he awoke to find her missing and decided to investigate. The way his eyes flicker up and down her as if looking for some reason for her to be awake makes her think it was probably the latter and she blushes in pleasure, offering a grin.

She sweeps a hand to the dolls and says, “I had a bit of work to finish.”

“Oh-“ says Adrian, stilted, “Sypha...” he blinks at her handy work and then chuckles softly. 

“Is this your way of ensuring I cannot throw them out?” They both know it’s more than that, but some things don’t need to be said aloud to be understood.

Sypha winks. “Clever, aren’t I?”

“Undoubtedly,” says Adrian.

Sypha stands to face him, he’s taller than her but this has never been of any concern, and sticks her pointer finger before him.

“Kiss it better?” She asks, her pin-pricked digit is still welling a little bead of blood.

“You could clean it in the sink,” Adrian offers, but his protest is weak at best.

“I could,” says Sypha, “but I have a feeling you’ll enjoy this more,” she gives him a wry grin.

And Adrian laughs outright this time and does as he’s told.

Sypha watches him, his eyes on her, his mouth on her, and her expression is soft, and she is feeling unabashedly warm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey remember how I really love Sypha? Man what a gift to us all she is.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to leave comments! :)


End file.
